


such a smiling sweetheart

by van1lla_v1lla1n



Series: naïve [1]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol, Anniversary, F/M, Fruit, Mention of pegging, Open Marriage, POV Tom Wambsgans, Post-Season 2, Sex Toys, Unhappy marriage, binge-y eating, but undernegotiated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van1lla_v1lla1n/pseuds/van1lla_v1lla1n
Summary: Shiv and Tom's first anniversary.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch & Tom Wambsgans, Siobhan "Shiv" Roy/Tom Wambsgans
Series: naïve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117133
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	such a smiling sweetheart

Tom stopped to kiss Shiv’s forehead on his way out the door. “See you at 7:00, right?”

She was scrolling through some memo on her tablet, didn’t look up. “At 7:00?” she asked.

Tom pulled on his coat by the door. “Right, for our reservation?”

He saw the moment Shiv caught up: she looked surprised at herself. “Ah—right. Of course, I’ll see you then. Meet you there?” She got up and took Tom’s hand, kissed his knuckles, tugged at his tie.

He smiled reassuringly. “Right.”

* * *

It’d been a bittersweet first year. A few months before, he’d finally told Shiv how unhappy he'd been feeling, and she’d cut back on her _little numbers_ , but it felt perfunctory, like a stopgap. She seemed almost itchy, antsy, like she was ready to pick back up right where she’d left off the moment Tom admitted he was feeling better about things.

Still, he wanted their anniversary to be perfect, memorable, sweet. They loved each other, right? And that’s what mattered, in the grand scheme of things. He’d bought her a traditional paper gift—this sleek modern lamp with a shade handmade from leftover wedding decorations he’d saved—and a bottle of the same wine his parents had gotten for their reception.

He left work early, walked home, feeling a little impulsive in his excitement. He stopped by a fruit stand on the way and bought a sack of perfectly ripe pears, Shiv’s favorite. He set out a bowl they’d been given as a wedding gift, arranged the pears in it on the coffee table, brought the lamp out from his closet and plugged it in next to Shiv’s seat on the couch.

* * *

Shiv showed up at the restaurant breathless and red-cheeked at 7:15, apologizing in a rush for some last-minute meeting she’d had to worm out of. Tom had stood in the foyer waiting for her, turning down the maître d’s offers of wine and a ready seat in his certainty she’d be there any minute. He’d smiled at everyone who walked in like he was having the best day of his life, but every moment longer he stood there he felt more and more like a doorman at a department store.

The dinner was pleasant, the meal as good as he’d paid for it to be, but Shiv picked at her food. When he asked if she was feeling alright, she admitted she’d noshed a little at her evening meeting, to help break the ice. They didn’t eat dessert.

* * *

Tom perched on the couch while Shiv dug his gift out from her bag.

He cleared his throat, asked, “Hey, notice anything different?”

She handed him the box, sat next to him looking confused, an expression that on her normally self-assured face still had a way of making him feel like something was his fault.

“What? Um, no, Tom. What?” She looked around the room and finally spotted the lamp. “Oh, this is new! This is new, right?”

Tom gripped the gift box, looking between Shiv and the lamp. “Right, yeah. I had it custom-made, you know, the shade, from our wedding decorations. I hope it’s—do you like it?”

She smiled over at him. “Jesus, Tom, I can’t believe you hoarded all those for so long. Of course I like it. It’s great! It’s, uh, a very nice lamp. Thank you.”

“And the pears too,” he said, standing up to get a cutting board from the kitchen. “I saw them on the walk home—”

“You walked?”

“—and they just looked so perfectly juicy, you know, and I know you love them, and so I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, god, how the hell are we going to eat all these?”

Tom sliced into the ripest one, not looking at her. “Guess I did go a little overboard, huh? But they just seemed so perfect, you know? Aren’t they perfect?” He held a thin slice to her mouth. “Here, try.”

She made a soft sweet sound as she chewed, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“How is it?” he asked, putting a slice in his own mouth.

“Mmm—a little mealy,” she said, wincing in a way he’d call apologetic on anyone else.

“Ah. Well, maybe this one is just a bit far gone. Plenty of others to try, right?”

She punched his arm. “Hey, open your gift.”

Tom felt himself blushing as he tore off the paper and made out a distinctly phallic shape on the label inside.

“Shiv, what—what’s this?”

“Just open it!”

“I mean, it’s open. I've opened it. And it’s—is it a dildo? I already have a cock, Shiv.” He looked at her and laughed.

“Right, but it’s for me. For us. It’s a strap-on, see?” She rushed on when his brow furrowed. “I just thought it could be fun, you know, to try? Just an idea. You might like it, if you tried. You could just lie there for once, while I do all the work. Doesn’t that sound nice?” She’d stood up, started collecting the wrapping paper scraps.

He should’ve been excited—thrilled that Shiv still wanted to have sex with him, turned on by the idea of trying something new with her. But something about it stung, and he wasn’t sure quite what it was, but he could feel it on his face, could see it reflected back to him in the defensive hunch of Shiv’s shoulders.

He worked up a smile. “Sure,” he said. “I mean, it’s not exactly something I’ve ever, you know, given much thought to.” He rubbed at his jaw. “But sure, why not, right? Let’s try it.”

She picked up the box in one hand and took his wrist in the other, tugged him up off the couch. “Great. Let’s try it. We should try it, right?”

Tom pulled his hand away, stuttering a little. “Maybe another time?” he asked. “I’m just not sure—I don’t know if I’m prepped, health-wise, for such an intense experience right now, you know?”

She looked away, set the box on the coffee table, and after fidgeting for a minute stepped toward the door.

“Right, then. Another time. To be honest I need to run some catchup on that meeting I skipped out of earlier, so I’m just gonna hop back to the office for a bit,” she said.

“But Shiv—on our anniversary night?”

She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, honey.”

* * *

He lay back on the couch and ate pears like apples after she left, letting the juice drip down his chin onto his shirt collar. Each one he ate seemed mealier than the last. He wanted to dump them all in the trash, or maybe throw them like snowballs at passing cars. He glared at the lamp, imagined ripping the shade into confetti and spreading it across the apartment.

Instead he drank a glass of the wine he’d bought to share with Shiv, deciding he’d just take the pears to work, leave them in the breakroom. Greg always liked the free food, even though he should’ve had plenty of money to stock his own snacks by then. Tom washed the juice off his face, let Mondale out of his pen, and went to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> We're always talking about how Tom gets the strap, and I couldn't stop thinking about how that would come up. So here we are.
> 
> I'm on Twitter at [@van1lla_v1lla1n](https://twitter.com/van1lla_v1lla1n) and Tumblr at [@van1lla-v1lla1n](https://van1lla-v1lla1n.tumblr.com/)!


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